Dance Hall Drug
by gollysandra
Summary: roxas x olette x seifer : “dude, do you have an extra pick?” at 10:33, those seven words – the ones that formed that particular question – set everything in motion. as surprising as it sounds, a lot can happen in ten minutes.


**DANCE HALL DRUG  
**do – you – want – to – lose – it – all – ?  
roxas x olette x seifer.

**warnings – **language, partying, drug use, and attempted rape (all involving teens)

1/1

"Dude, do you have an extra pick?"

I know this seems like an irrelevant beginning to our story. But, like many of the adults in our lives have told us, we should not judge a book by its cover. We should not make assumptions. To be honest, the seven words above – the ones that formed that particular question – were what set everything in motion. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if things had played out differently. If Hayner hadn't thrown his guitar pick into the crowd. If I hadn't had an extra one in my case back in the band room. What if _he_ had taken her into a different room? What would have happened if I hadn't been able to stop him? And he raped her? And she never woke up? It's scary to think about.

Thoughts like these make me overprotective. Thoughts like these make me get into those fights.

I've never wanted to talk about it before. Any mention of that night puts me on edge – more so when I imagine what it must be like for her. I'm risking expulsion here. And to tell you the truth, I would much rather bash his face in than have my chance to graduate. Where is he as I'm writing this essay? Where is she? Are they close enough in proximity to one another that he might have the chance to try and do it again? I can't organize my thoughts. I can't focus. I can't think about what I want to do with my life. I can't write about it, as you've asked me to. All I want – all I can think about – is making sure that he never has another opportunity to hurt her. I'll kick his ass. I'll _kill_ him. Anything to keep him away.

Despite everything you've heard about what happened last year – only about a third of it is true. Which is why I've decided to devote this next hour and half to telling you the truth. Maybe, it will be therapeutic for me to know that someone else shares the burden – someone powerful, an authority figure. Even though she begged me not to tell.

I love her.

And even if she throws me out on my ass for writing these words, I won't give up. Not until he pays for what he did.

You remember that night in mid-October last year; it was the night of the homecoming dance. I saw you standing outside, making sure that no one was smuggling anything into the party – especially after what happened to Naminé at the last one. I was waiting for my band, and you wished me good luck before dragging Riku to this very office; that booze was not his, by the way. You were under the impression that you had prevented the usual outcome of teenage parties – no drunken students, no smoking in the bathrooms, no marijuana, no bedrooms to escape to. I wish you had realized that there were other options – other things that could be done.

"_Grown up", she just turned sixteen  
Stuck in the moment, dead at the scene  
And it's on tonight  
This is the life that you wanted, right?_

It was 7:30, and my cousin still hadn't arrived with the others. I remained outside, leaning against the brick wall behind me and watching everyone show up after the homecoming game. All of the football players – he was among them – were all wearing their jerseys, some sporting grass stains. One guy in particular, Demyx, had blood all over his; one of the members of the other team had elbowed him right in the nose. I supposed that they would change up in the locker rooms – that is, if they planned for girls to get anywhere _near_ them that night. I should have realized it then and there. The football team and their girlfriends had arrived about forty minutes after everyone else; their bags weren't being checked. He didn't even have to hide it. He could have had it in his pocket, his sports bag…

Of course, I was too distracted to have thought about the possibility at that point. I was fazed by the fact that _she_ was on his arm. Suddenly, the guy who pissed in my shoes for being in love with her became even more insufferable. What did he see in her besides her physique? There was no way a guy like Seifer saw anything more than high heels and boobs when he looked at her. He probably didn't even know what color her eyes were. Or the fact that she was number one in our class rank. Did he notice how she would play with her hair when she was nervous? Did he know that she submitted her poetry anonymously to the school paper, for fear of being judged by people like him? Hell, did he even know that she wanted to be a journalist when she got out of college? Or where she _wanted_ to go to college?

I knew all of those things. Not in a stalker type way, but after listening to her – and paying attention to how meaningful our conversations had been, those few times we had spoken. Her eyes were emerald green. She was voted "most likely to succeed" in our sophomore year. She would twirl chestnut brown hair around her finger whenever she had to make speeches in our debate class. Her poems were like the lines in a song. She wanted to write for the Bastion Tribune. And she wanted to go to Twilight University – like me. She wanted to stay close to home because – if she were to travel into the city – she would miss her family too much. She wanted to be able to visit her friends from high school, and eat at her favorite restaurants. She wanted to write her poetry in the quaint café downtown. And she wanted to inspire newcomers. 

I knew all of those things.

And I would pay you if you could prove that _he_ gave a crap. As much as I hated to admit it – and still do, more than a year later – I envied him. I envied him because he had his arm around her waist. I envied him because he made her cheeks turn pink. I envied him because he had made her his for the night – to talk to, to laugh with, to dance with.

I envied him because I wanted all of those things.

I wanted her. And I wanted her to want me, too.

_So turn off all the lights  
Dressed up just like a movie star  
At all the parties they'll know who you are  
Wouldn't it be great to be fashionably late?  
So why don't you wait till you're sedated?_

"Hey, it's Rocksuck." I was surprised he acknowledged me at all, slowing his pace to smirk at me. God, I hated him.

I shoved my hands in my pockets, clenching my fists. "Go screw yourself, Seifer. I'm not in the mood for your _comedy_." 

Adrenaline was pumping through my veins; my heart was beating faster with every passing moment, partially because of my rage, and also because of the girl who persisted to captivate me. Her eyes were on me – much like those of the football players – though they were deeper, significant. It was a cool night, but I could not keep myself from sweating; it felt as if the air was saturated with heat. I embraced the sexual tension. I was on a rollercoaster. And my insides were screaming her name. Olette. Olette. _Olette_.

"Why don't you go and make it with your sister?" Seifer shot back, answered by several amused laughs from the football team. "It's the only way you'll ever get laid."

He was talking about Kairi, my adoptive sister. Her parents had abandoned her before she was old enough to talk – let alone realize that they had committed one of the worst forms of betrayal. She had no other relatives to turn to – and I have yet to learn much about her biological family. All my parents have told me is that they were pretty screwed up. I suppose they made Kairi the way she is. She has always been somewhat nervous and delicate, but her resolve is stronger than any I have ever known. She has strong opinions, and a lot of potential; she has some interesting ideas to bring to the table. But, until she and Tidus started dating this year, Kairi's disposition kept her from going on many dates. I'm wondering if you are able to imagine how Seifer's remarks made my blood boil.

I lunged at Seifer, determined to beat all thoughts of Kairi out of him. I was enraged – onlookers may have thought I had gone insane, had they seen me. "Take that back you fuc–"

"Whoa, Roxas! Take it easy, man. Come on, he isn't worth it." Hayner pulled me back before I could do any serious damage, keeping a firm hold on the back of my jacket.

In my haste to bash Seifer's face in, I hadn't realized that my friends had pulled up in Sora's van. Sitting here now, I'm grateful that they arrived when they did. Sora and Tidus were watching curiously from inside the vehicle; Sora had braked at the edge of the sidewalk, idling the van so that Hayner could keep me from getting suspended for kicking Seifer's ass. The football team was now silent other than the occasional snort from Demyx, who had yet to get his nose checked out by the school nurse. Olette had wriggled free of Seifer's grasp, standing away from him as she watched me with awe. Hayner wore a similar expression, releasing me when he was assured that I would not take a dive at the bastard again.

And I felt incredibly stupid.

"Let's get outta here," Seifer decided, and I heard the sound of van doors closing in the background. "The guy's friggin' crazy." He added, taking hold of Olette's waist once more, and after nodding to his team, he led the way into the building.

He wore her like a prize – a _trophy_. 

Hayner sighed in frustration as the doors to the school clicked shut behind them, bringing his hands to his temples before taking hold of both of my shoulders. He shook me, attempting to knock some sense into me as he had on several occasions. I didn't deserve to have friends like Hayner and Tidus – or a cousin like Sora. Sometimes, it felt like they were looking after me as if they were my elders, despite the fact that our birthdays were no more than two months apart. I was a pain in the ass to keep track of, I'm sure. And they often took the blame for crap I pulled.

It wasn't as if I was too much of a coward to take responsibility for my actions. It was just that they knew I couldn't _afford_ to be held accountable for everything I did. Most of the detentions you've given them can be traced back to me. Sora didn't graffiti Seifer's locker last year. I did. Hayner didn't tie that freshman to the basketball hoop behind the school. I convinced one of the football players that he did something to deserve it. And Tidus didn't set those paper towels on fire in chemistry classroom. It was my fault. And I was an asshole to let them take the blame like that.

I don't even know _why_ I do the things I do. My therapist – who isn't as much of a quack as I thought she was – says that I pull those sorts of stunts because I'm angry. She says I'm too aggressive. She also thinks – much like my family does – that I need a serious attitude adjustment. According to her, I focus too much on being negative. That makes sense, because I'm a sarcastic pessimist who spends most of his time writing depressing, ironic song lyrics. Either that, or I'm wrapped up in some fist fight somewhere. And I probably owe it all to my parents.

My family's always been kind of screwed up.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, and I meant it. It was a rare occurrence, because my sincerity does not stretch very far; Hayner and the others were some of the few people I trusted. I wanted them to trust me, too. "Thanks for saving my ass."

Sora laughed, placing his hands behind his head and offering me a grin. "Just show some self-restraint next time, huh? We can't let some jerk like Seifer ruin this night for us. It's a great gig."

Hayner and Tidus nodded in agreement, punching me in the arm before trudging back towards the van to unload our equipment. I followed after a few seconds, shaking my head in amusement. Sora was right. Playing at the high school was an awesome opportunity for us. We had never performed in front of so many people before. We had played at a few parties – one at popular cheerleader Selphie Tilmitt's, another at Riku's cousin's sweet sixteen. Plenty of people had shown up on those occasions, but they never came to listen to us. Most of these parties had no parental supervision, so all everyone wanted to do was get plastered and high before hooking up with someone at random.

Tonight was supposed to be different.

Tonight was supposed to be the best night of our lives.

_Don't it feel like something's not right in his kiss tonight?_

_Yeah, what I'm saying is do you, do you want to lose it all?  
'Cause this is more than just a dance hall drug  
You can't wait to fall in love  
All I'm saying is do you, do you want to learn to fly?  
Then you should pack it up and say goodbye  
'Cause when the push turns to the shove  
He's just a dance hall drug_

It was 8:15 by the time we had unloaded all of our equipment. We hung out in the band room for awhile, drinking Red Bull and replacing our nerves with the feeling of ecstasy. Thoughts of Seifer and Olette melted away, and all I could think about was our music. How would the student body respond to my lyrics? Would they recognize the rhythms, even though they had been in a drunken stupor the last time they had heard them? Had we rehearsed enough? Would we crash and burn? I forgot that someone would have spiked the punch, I forgot that out of all the girls in the gym, she was the sweetest – trusting and somewhat naïve, blinded by _her_ nerves. I was selfish, allowing my thoughts to wander, though always to something that – at least to some extent – involved me. I wondered how much fun Kairi was having in the city with my grandparents. I wondered if my dad would be home when Sora dropped me off. I wondered if my mom would have cried herself to sleep on the sofa again. I wondered if the bills were piling up on the dining room table.

I thought for a long while – but never of Olette.

"Dude, it's almost 9:30. We should get out there. Pence will be done with setup by now," said Tidus, removing his guitar from its case. "And we can't leave the public with whatever lame music the DJ is playing."

I nodded, following his lead and stripping my guitar of its case, leaving it on one of the abandoned chairs in the room. Hayner and Sora went ahead of us, and we could hear them shouting through the deserted hallway. It was show time. No one could have known that it would come crashing down in an hour and thirteen minutes. I pulled a pick out of the inner pocket of my guitar case, jogging to catch up with Tidus, who had also gone out the door.

Tonight was supposed to be the best night of our lives.

When we first entered the gym, no one noticed us. It was no different than walking through the halls during the school day. We could have been screaming, bleeding, dying – and no one would have looked up. They _did_ notice when the song ended, however, _and_ when the DJ left his post without an explanation. It was amusing to watch their confused faces and the protest that was beginning to arise. I like to believe that we educated them with our music that night, because unlike the R&B remixes that had been ringing throughout the gym for the past two hours, our music had meaning. It had meaning even if those listening to it were unable to find it.

That was when my thoughts of her returned – because I knew there was one eloquent soul in the crowd. There was one brunette who would look for the importance behind the words, the message I had spent countless hours trying to express.

I could see her from where I stood on the makeshift platform where the other members of my band had already taken their places, shouting last minute reminders at one another over the chatter of our spectators. She held a red plastic cup in her hand, sipping from it on occasion, and exchanging hushed whispers with the quarterback on her arm. My heart skipped several beats, and I felt again the sensation of magnetism – the invisible force that drew me to her.

I tore my eyes away from her only when we started our first song, and I was cued to the microphone. From that moment, there was an hour of innocence left to enjoy. And the clock was counting down.

_Step in and you can lock the door  
The candles are lit and the clothes on the floor  
You could take a chance at finding romance  
Now you're holding hands  
But he's got other plans  
Tick-tock the clock is turning red  
The room won't stop spinning and thoughts in your head  
And it's too late  
You feel like you're making a big mistake  
You should've waited_

"Dude, do you have an extra pick?"

At 10:33, those seven words – the ones that formed that particular question – set everything in motion. As surprising as it sounds, a lot can happen in ten minutes.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling over the applause that had erupted from the mob of our classmates. At the end of our sixth song, Hayner had tossed his guitar pick into the crowd, along with one of Sora's drum sticks. I knew all of us were experiencing the same feelings: relief, excitement, and optimism. All of my worries had vanished. I was on top of the world. I scanned the crowd, searching for Olette; I had to talk to her – I had to be with her while the adrenaline in my veins gave me courage. I was elated. My smile never faded, and Hayner threw an arm around my shoulders.

"They love you, Rox." He declared, gesturing towards the clapping students. "And – as you can tell – several of these lovestruck teenagers are _girls_. Look at them! They want you to father their children!"

I shoved him away, laughing as Sora approached the microphone. "Thank you, thank you!" Sora seemed to bask in the glory, taking a dramatic bow or two before continuing. "We're gonna take a short break, and we'll be back in ten."

Hayner punched me in the arm, the smile refusing to leave his face. "So, guitar picks. An extra one? For _me_?"

I shook my head, hopping down from the makeshift platform and tossing an empty water bottle at my best friend. He responded with a forced frown, pretending to strum the strings of his guitar. Hayner is so immature sometimes. I weaved through the crowd of students; separate groups of friends were beginning to form out of the mob. I stepped into the empty hallway, feeling rejuvenated. It was much cooler out there. I trudged down the corridor back into the foyer, passing a group of girls who exited the bathroom smelling like smoke and perfume. It was 10:39. I figured we had time for about six more songs before the dance was over.

I had nearly reached the music wing when I heard him call after me. It was 10:43, and everything changed.

"Roxas!"

It was Demyx. He had changed out of his bloody football jersey, and the shadow of a purple bruise was beginning to emerge on the bridge of his nose. He did not have a date with him, but there were red smudges around his lips; I couldn't tell from that distance whether it was some girl's lipstick or his nose had started to bleed again. He seemed jittery – almost frantic the way he shuffled down the hallway, nearly jogging to catch up to me. He stopped when our paths met, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his tux as he caught his breath. It wasn't like Demyx to be so anxious.

"What's up?" I asked, and the euphoria I had felt on stage disappeared. I knew something was wrong.

"It's Seifer, he – he roofied her. She was passing out in there – she could barely stand. And he disappeared for awhile, so I went to go find Naminé–" Demyx stopped, trembling in what seemed to be a combination of guilt and fear. "I'm sorry, man, I – I should have stayed with her. I should have taken her home myself, but – she and Naminé carpooled."

I felt as if my entire world had come crashing down. My vision was spinning. A terrible wave of nausea washed over me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. He had sedated her. He had given her the date rape drug. She wouldn't be able to fight it – and as long as the dance lasted, no one would be there to help her. She would wake up alone – if she ever did – wondering where her virginity had gone. I was amazed that I was able to keep myself from heaving.

Olette – beautiful, sweet, hopeful Olette – was going to get raped.

I shook myself out of it, hoping that my ability to think clearly would not be impaired. "How long have they been gone?" I demanded, my palms sweating and my limbs shaking – I couldn't waste any time. "Where would he have taken her?" I realized that I was speaking louder, suppressing my instinct to sprint through the halls, the parking lot, calling her name.

"I saw her about fifteen minutes ago, just before you finished your set." Demyx answered, as quickly as his thoughts would allow. "You should – outside. His car. He will have made sure no one can walk in on them – or –"

"_Get help_." I interrupted him, running back the way I had come before he was able to respond. 

I ran faster than I ever had before, using every ounce of skill those three years of track and field had given me. I flew through the double doors and out into the crisp night air, my heart beating like the fast rhythm of a metronome. I made long strides, my footsteps echoing through the silent parking lot. My shadow moved with me, cast by the lights that stood high above the pavement, and before long, my voice shattered the soundless void.

"OLETTE!"

The best night of my life had twisted and warped into a horror movie within ten short minutes. I was drowning, being pulled by the undertow. My heart ached with anger and fear. I would have given my bones – my music – to save her.

"OLETTE!" I repeated.

_Don't it feel like something's not right in his kiss tonight?_

_Yeah, what I'm saying is do you, do you want to lose it all?  
'Cause this is more than just a dance hall drug  
You can't wait to fall in love  
All I'm saying is do you, do you want to learn to fly?  
Then you should pack it up and say goodbye  
'Cause when the push turns to the shove  
He's just a dance hall drug_

His car was parked in the ninety-fifth spot in the lot. It did not receive much light from the lampposts, being closer to the wooded area surrounding the school than the other cars. I knelt down to pick up something silver from the blacktop: Olette's bracelet. I was in the right place – now, all that mattered, was that I had arrived at the right time. I stood up straight again, catching my breath and pocketing the bracelet before continuing to jog towards the quarterback's car.

And that's when the horn sounded – weak, but audible.

"You fucking bastard." I swore, quickening my pace and throwing open the passenger side door of his Volvo.

Olette was sprawled against the seat beneath him, and he had ridden up her dress to reveal much more of her legs than it was supposed to. She was barely conscious, making incoherent noises in protest; her arm would have stretched far enough for her to reach the horn. His belt was unbuckled, and his hands had been on her breasts beneath the dress, but it did not appear that he had gotten _there_ – yet.

_So, just wait, love_

_Show 'em what you're made of_

"GET OFF OF HER!" I shouted, yanking hard on the back of his suit jacket, and dragging him out of the car. No one had parked in the space beside the passenger door, making it easier for me to pull him off of her. It was then that I really kicked his ass, showing no mercy – and nearly killing him because of it. He fought back, of course – but my rage made me blind. I think if you had known the truth back then – maybe I wouldn't have had to fight so hard for a chance to remain on my class roster. I think if you had known the truth back then, you might have understood why I didn't show remorse.

It was when he was unconscious – broken, bleeding – that I returned to Olette. Her movements were sluggish, and her hand was limp as she reached for mine. I took it, cold and bruised, in the attempt to reassure her that it was alright. She mumbled something – I'm sure it was my name – as she struggled to keep her eyes open, trying to squeeze my hand as I lifted her out of the car. I fixed her dress, seeing her in her underwear – at least in a situation like this – not enough to embarrass me. I put her arm around my shoulders, beginning to walk back to the school.

"R-Roxas." Her words were still slurred, but this time I could make them out. "D-Don't t-tell."

_Don't it feel like something's not right in his kiss tonight?_

_Yeah, what I'm saying is do you, do you want to lose it all?  
'Cause this is more than just a dance hall drug  
You can't wait to fall in love  
All I'm saying is do you, do you want to learn to fly?  
Then you should pack it up and say goodbye  
'Cause when the push turns to the shove  
He's just a dance hall drug_

---

I told you that someone had roofied her at the dance. But – at her request – I did not tell you who it was. I also failed to mention that he had tried to rape her. I told you that I had found her out of luck – after I had attacked Seifer. And you suspended me as soon as you had called an ambulance to transport both of them to the hospital. The remainder of the weekend passed like maple syrup through a straw, slow and thick. My mom cried much more than she usually did, and my dad still didn't care. My grandparents brought Kairi home, and as relieved as I was to have my sister to talk to, her disappointed eyes were the most difficult to bear. 

I did not see Olette again until the following Monday. She came home with Kairi after school, and I could tell how she was feeling by her body language – embarrassed, betrayed, and vulnerable. A dark bruise had appeared on her jaw, and I could see others on her arms from beneath her three-quarter sleeves. She did not make eye contact with me, twirling her chestnut brown hair with her long index finger. She stood close enough that I could smell her perfume.

"Can we talk?" She asked, meeting my eyes for a split second before returning her gaze to the grass. "Please." She added, and for a moment she seemed on the verge of tears.

I nodded, resisting the temptation to reach for her battered hand. "Sure."

Olette bit down on her lower lip, blinking a few times. She took a sharp breath, exhaling just the same, and allowed herself to look me in the eyes as she began to speak. "A-About Friday night… I, uhm… I just wanted to… you know, thank you for–" She stopped herself, fiddling with her necklace. "F-For everything."

"You really have nothing to thank me for. I mean, I couldn't just let him–"

"Yeah."

An awkward silence overcame us, broken several minutes later when her shoulders began rising and falling with every breath, and her lips trembled as she tried to hide it from me. She was crying. Seriously crying. It was the kind of crying my mom did, the kind that was enough to break the hearts of those who witnessed it.

"R-Ro-Roxas…" She whimpered, before throwing her arms around me. I could already feel her tears soaking into my shirt. "I-I'm so s-sorry, I-I d-didn't w-want to – I t-thought h-he c-cared about m-me. I t-trusted h-him. I c-can't–"

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close and kissing her hair. "_I_ care about you. I've always cared about you." I paused, resting my chin on the top of her head. "And when you're ready… you'll tell everyone what happened. And I'll be right there with you." Her sobs were quieting, though she remained there, her face buried in my shoulder. "We'll tell them everything… and he'll never be able to hurt you… or anyone else ever again."

It was at that moment that I made the promise – both to her and myself – that I would keep her safe. I wanted her to trust me. I wanted to give her hope. I wanted her to know that I appreciated her in the ways that I did – her intelligence, her depth, her ambition. I wanted her to know that she was – and would always be – the most eloquent soul in the room.

_Don't it feel like something's not right in his kiss tonight?_

_Yeah, what I'm saying is do you, do you want to lose it all?  
'Cause this is more than just a dance hall drug  
You can't wait to fall in love  
All I'm saying is do you, do you want to learn to fly?  
Then you should pack it up and say goodbye  
'Cause when the push turns to the shove  
He's just a dance hall drug_

I know you're probably wondering why I end our story here. But – like an irrelevant beginning – some stories must have an irrelevant end. There are a number of reasons for this, the first of which being that it is almost 4:00, and you'll be here soon to see what I've written. I would prefer to be gone by the time you read this, because I don't think I could handle explaining what happened that night in any more detail than I already have. 

I hope this encourages you to reconsider your options – but, even if you do decide to expel me, it's gratifying to know that this paper will have given you the truth. 

It's gratifying to know that Seifer will finally get what's coming to him. 

It's gratifying to know that she will finally be free.

---

© **Martin Johnson  
**© **Square-Enix**

**  
**


End file.
